Not in January

 

The other day I took

off my hat and gloves

shortly after I boarded

the bus. 

I put them back on just

before I exited the bus. 

At least I thought I did.

I made my way from the

bus stop to

Jenna’s classroom. 

While I waited I once again

removed my hat and gloves –

oops - glove. 

How is it I had only

one glove on.  Why hadn’t

my hand mentioned to me

that it wasn’t covered? 

I looked around the area

where I was standing. 

I must have lost it

somewhere along the way. 

Weird.

So yesterday I kicked the

snow in a few areas where

I could see color. 

No pink glove but a lot

of fall autumn leaves.

                          Most of the trees stand

naked outlined in the snow. 

But there are actually a few with

leaves still clinging to the branches. 

I don’t think I’ve ever seen

autumn leaves in January. 

Not real ones. 

And some still had their

crunch even beneath

the soggy snow. 

I find that fascinating!

kfralc

One of Us Has to Wait in the Snow

What goes around comes around.  I thought about that when Alley’s mom offered not only to drive us to Jenna’s school, but pick her up as well.  When I was driving I had stopped to pick up Jorge and his mom whenever I would see them walking to church.  I was also willing to drive them to other destinations as needed. I’ve given rides to various people for various reasons.  I actually haven’t had a problem with it so I don’t know why I’m having such an issue at the receiving end. 

Alley’s mom is a really good driver – unfortunately not all drivers are that careful behind the wheel.  If she were to get in an accident because she was out shuttling Jenna and me around, I would be quite bothered by it.  But I didn’t want to discourage her or take away from her act of kindness.  The last time she picked Jenna up from school, her own children nearly beat her home.

Jenna, who usually considers herself late for school if she hasn’t crossed the playground at least 30 minutes before school starts, would rather take the bus than be to school fifteen minutes before we would normally board the bus.  But I’m not always thrilled with the idea of having to return to the bus stop to wait in the freezing cold either.  And so we made a compromise.

Alley’s brother normally takes the bus to the junior high but during the cold months and elements, their mom has been dropping him off and has offered to take Jenna the rest of the way to her school as Vantanna really isn’t that far from Dwight Jr. High.

But as I mentioned in this post Alley’s school let’s out only five or ten minutes after Jenna’s and though they return to the neighborhood by way of school bus, the timing is not always convenient from my point of view.  I think she needs to be home for their return – though I do appreciate her willingness and have accepted her offer – I still am having a hard time with it.

Jenna, who also likes to dawdle (which I have mentioned here and here and probably another number of places) has been good about crossing the field on time.  But I think she is more bothered about crossing the field immediately after school than she is at arriving early.  And so we made a compromise

.

We will ride with Alley’s mom in the morning and I will return for her by bus in the afternoon.  Roland hasn’t been coming home on time the last few nights and so I’m not worried about having his dinner ready (whenever I do, he’s late; whenever I don’t, he’s home on time – I can’t win)

I’m grateful to those people who serve others and assistance and genuine concern and kindness.

This morning I handed a card to Alley’s mom to thank her and let her know about the compromise between me and Jenna.  I am comfortable with it.  I hope that she is too.

Over the Counter

Ever watch “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”? Toula’s large extended family reminds me so much of Roland’s side of the family - with a few minor differences.  They’re Hispanic, not Greek.  They are not devout to any particular religion. And instead of a fascintion with Windex, Roland’s mother swears by Vicks Vapor Rub.

 

Roland well remembers the taste of Vicks.  His mother would smother the inside of each of her children’s mouth.  There is a warning on today’s label NOT to do that.  I don’t know if it was there in Roland’s youth.

 

I do admit that I have also taken it internally – which I do not recommend.  But it really is the best throat medicine I’ve ever had.  I felt a tinge of excitement the first time I saw Vicks Vapor Syrup.  It is rare to see more than two bottles on the shelf – if at all.  It seems like there are only certain stores that carry it.

 

The taste is truly NASTY.  But it does work.  Well, it does for me.  Jenna says it doesn’t work on her.  There are a lot of medications that doesn’t seem to work on her and vice-versa. 

Over the counter drug Advil would work on Jenna.  I might as well take candy, as Advil does absolutely nothing for me.

The cough syrup that works best is Buckley’s.  Also nasty.  Their motto is: "It Tastes Awful. And It Works.".  Perhaps Canadians can find product in most of their stores.  Unfortunately it is not as easy to find among this American.  Why do stores always discontinue carrying products that work?

My Life as a Ball

My body is sooooo sore and has been for a few days.  I feel like I’ve been used as a ping-pong ball by two very expertise players.  But of course I could never be used as a ping-pong ball.

A bowling ball maybe.  And not one of those shiny ones that glide smoothly down the lane to shatter pins.

I would be one of those dust collectors that has a flaw so that there is no speed involved whatsoever.  Or perhaps I feel like the pin that has been hit over and over.

Beach balls, though big, are light and airy and can pop quite easily.  I am thin-skinned and have cut my fingers peeling back egg shells (on occasion)

I could never be a basketball or rubber ball or super ball.  I have no bounce – though I may have had at one time.  I’ve long since outgrew my ability to bounce.

I suppose I could be a soccer ball that’s been kicked too many times

Or pool ball that’s been poked and prodded. 

You ever experience body pain a few days after you’ve come down with a cold?  You ache all over. That is how I feel – except no cold.  At least not in the body.

It’s been below freezing - in most of the nation it seems.  I think that has contributed to my soreness – along with my unstable bed and body weight.  Plus I haven’t been walking to the bus stop on a daily basis.  I haven’t been trudging through snow or climbing.

The air is gunky right now.  I don’t want to go outside and get that in my lungs.  I suppose I could walk in place within the house.  I’d rather take a bath in Ben Gay.

I could be a medicine ball.  Heavy.  Kind of soft.  I don’t think I’m therapeutic however.

I should work at being an exercise ball and assist others if not myself.

Tomorrow we get our new bed base.  I think that will help ease the pain.

There Are More Than 40 Hymns

        

         I can’t say for certain, but I think it’s highly probable that there are several wards (or congregations) that tend to sing the same 40 – 80 hymnals with each meeting.  That doesn’t even cover 50% of what we’ve been given.  And there are some choristers who have tried to introduce new hymns – which may have been enforced in recent years.  If I was called as chorister, I’m afraid our hymns would be the same familiar ones that we have sung at least 20 times during any given year.  I don’t think I have to be concerned about being called to chorister position.  I enjoy listening to music – and I will even lead – but not with expertise I’m afraid. 

         My brother, Corey, has often made the complaint that with over 300 hymns (and those are just the ones currently published in today’s hymn book – there’s got to be even more that we don’t have access to each week) – why is it that someone feels the need to sing the same hymns over and over again? 

         I’ve been in a few wards in which the chorister has introduced the hymn and we’ve actually had a “practice” but I don’t remember any of those becoming part of the curriculum for future meetings.  I think we have the opportunity to sing it one time and depending on how badly our voices butcher that hymn depends on whether we will ever sing it again or not (apparently our voices haven’t worked together well enough to pursue keeping it on our agenda.  That’s also a guess on my part.  I really don’t know.)

         Corey would LOVE the ward I am at now just for the opportunity of singing new hymn each week – even ones that the congregation obviously does not know.  I believed our chorister had given us every hymnal to sing three times over, until today when we were introduced to hymn #13 which only a few of members from the High Priest group were familiar with.  They sounded awesome.  I don’t know why this ward doesn’t have a choir.  Thus far it is the only ward I’ve attended that doesn’t have one.

         There are some hymns I obviously enjoy more than others.  Many people (who are familiar with it) like the hymn 284 – and I notice that all of those who admit to liking the song are very gifted with voices and knowledge of music.  I personally find it haunting and draggy.  I like the hymns to be uplifting and move.  There are some that drag on like you’re walking in a death march or something.  I don’t mean that disrespectfully.  It’s not even the words, but the tunes themselves.  Maybe sometimes it’s the words.  Perhaps it is just from my own lack of understanding.

     I do enjoy reading what is printed in the back pages of the hymnal – how to lead, finding hymns with scripture reference, and being able to sing the words of one hymn to another.  Take  “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” for instance.   I remember Corey singing that and changing to the tune of “I know My Redeemer Lives” and it was beautiful.  Corey and Joh can sing a cappella.  I can listen to them without a piano accompaniment.  They are that gifted.

         Between Relief Society and Sacrament meeting there are usually at least two hymns that I am not familiar with.  Sometimes there are only two that I am familiar with.  And our chorister should be praised for her persistence.  I think she’s too stubborn to give us familiar. I suppose that’s a good thing.

         How awesome it is that we all given talents that we might share and learn from one another.  How great it is that there are those who take initiative to go beyond the familiar. 

Glitter Should be Illegal

         Each ward has a different cleaning schedule for the building in which church meetings are attended. The church was across the street from the first house in which we lived.  Two wards met in the building.  The two wards would trade off with the cleaning the building and the upkeep of the grounds (namely shoveling snow)  A list was passed around to the members of our ward to sign up for various weeks.  It felt like our family was involved with cleaning the church 4 – 8 times during the year.

There are three wards which meet in the building which we currently attend. When we first moved into the ward we were told that each ward was assigned to clean four months out of the year.  The months were consecutive and not spread out.  Our ward would be cleaning the building each Saturday for the last four months.  I personally thought they should be spreading them out, but whatever.

In our first ward the kitchen was ALWAYS under lock and key.  Actually, a lot of rooms were.  We were never asked to clean/vacuum the library or kitchen.  But this ward keeps the kitchen open and many Saturdays there is someone cleaning in there as well as the rest of the building.  Whoever uses the kitchen is supposed to clean up after themselves.

Roland and I have been over at the church almost every Saturday that we are assigned.  We no longer clean September through December but every third month (as I highly suspect that one of the wards is not pulling its weight – of course it would be the one that we follow)  Each organization is assigned a specific week – but members are still encouraged to show up every week that they are able.

We haven’t been diligent about going every week this month and today was only our second time this month.  I took the vacuum around one side of the building and hit all the class rooms, Relief Society room, primary room and nursery (though not in that order) and found bits of glitter I think in every room – though nothing like last year.  The glitter I picked up today had been missed with the last twelve times that the vacuum was used – for the most part the floors were clean except for those bits of sparkle that would glisten at different angles.

Sister Claus was cleaning the chalk boards told me that the wrapping paper she used had blue glitter stripes.  She had wrapped them and tucked them into the suitcase of her visiting sister so that they would find their way to family members left in her home state.  She said her sister called a bit irritated that blue sparkles had doused the inside of her suitcase and every bit of clothing.  Sister Claus assured her that she was not the only recipient of the blue glitter as it continued to spread its way around every room at her house and every room in her home state.  And by the time the last piece of glitter is finally vacuumed or cleared away from whatever spot it may be, it will be time to wrap gifts again.  Let’s hope Sister Claus goes with a non-glittered wrap the next time around.

I used to be in the nursery.  The rule was that if a child wished to play with a toy that was still in the closet, she had to trade it for the one she’d just been playing with.  I wish all nursery leaders would incorporate this idea into the children.  Jenna still hasn’t learned it.  But I really don’t see the sense in having every single toy from the closet out on the floor.

The nursery leaders at present don’t seem to be bothered with having eight times more toys on the floor than children.  For I have passed it in the morning and have seen the toys spread out – even when it appears that no one is there to play with them or pick them up.

I don’t know how large the nursery is.  I wouldn’t imagine it would be any larger than when I was in (five kids tops) nor do I believe that all three rooms need to be used.  We kept two open as the other nursery leader seemed claustrophobic.  But it appears the last ward that meet has enough children that they are able to separate them into groups.  It was the first time I had seen the folding doors pulled out so that there were three separate rooms.

The last room that I did was the one over the stage – a neglected room that few people even know about.  I think it’s only my third time being in it. Our ward doesn’t use it.  But somebody obviously does.  I think it gets used as a baby sitting room by members of the ward known for not cleaning. We do have a mother’s room that is actually on the same level as all the others.  Why climb up the stairs?  And why treat the room with such disrespect?  It’s still a part of Heavenly Father’s house.  It’s like his attic (I guess).

I like the sparkly effects of glitter when it stays attached to what it’s intended for.  But it’s really annoying when it spreads and attaches itself where it doesn’t belong.  It’s almost as bad as the pink stuff used by the Cat-in-the-Hat.

Digging for the Truth

I was watching the news this morning and saw this human interest story about a horse who had been rescued from frozen waters.  It was told in a Twas the Night Before Christmas  type manner.

The way it was told seemed somewhat cute in the beginning but seemed to drag into cheesy as the reporter kept on rhyming words.  It made me think of Jane Fonda’s character in “The China Syndrome” which was released in 1979.

Kimberly Wells (said character) is sent on assignment to cover the story at the zoo featuring a birthday in honor of a residential tiger (or something like that) and would rather do hard core stories.  I don’t personally know any reporters, their dreams or ambitions, or how many indeed would rather do the hard core and investigation than those human interest stories. (If I were a reporter, I would personally like to deliver the human interest over hard core)

Kimberly Wells finds her story at a nuclear power plant.  She wants to investigate.  As the story moves forward, there seems to be a lot more cover up by the plant CEOs and employees than any investigation that is made.  Cover ups only seem to create more questions.  Not only does the reporter go to extensive lengths to find the truth, but the opposing side seems to make even greater lengths to keep it covered.

At what cost does the media go to to keeping us informed.  And why?  There are times when it seems necessary that the reporters continue sticking their noses in where it doesn’t appear to belong. One example is  Elliot Gould’s character in “Capricorn I” ..  Even after David Doyle’s character fired him, Robert Caulfield worked with even more persistance to uncover a government scandal. 

We need those persistent reporters for the most part. Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein (“All the President’s Men") are two reporters based on those who really did uncover the Watergate Scandal. It was the sandal that led to the resignation of Pres. Richard Nixon.

Some persistence seems rather silly and unnecessary – like Jack McGee chasing the hulk.  And the saddest part is that I think there really are reporters like that. 45 min episode here

And I suppose there are some reporters or investigators who may get in the way of police investigation.  There are some who are grateful for the updates and there are some who believe that the media is either misinformed or leaving us in the dark about certain  things.  For the most part I’m grateful for the persistence.

The Truth About Santa

 

Almost every year since we moved to West Valley, Roland will ask, “When should we tell Jenna about Santa Clause” 

I always answer, “Tell her what?”

“There’s no such thing as Santa”

“What do you mean?”

He gives me a look.

“Roland.  I believe in Santa.  I have been Santa.  And we have been recipients of Santa a huge amount of times.  What do you mean there’s no such thing as Santa?”

“We need to tell Jenna that you and I are the ones who put the presents out.”

“Oh . . . why?”

“You don’t want her to be the only one in third, forth, fifth grade to still believe.”

“Tony is 23, 24, 25 and he still believes in Santa Clause. I’m 48, 49 . . . and I still believe.”

Another rolling of the eyes.

Media warns us about targeted homes during this time of the year.  Robbed of Christmas by thieves.  We left the house around 2:30 and did not return until after 8:30.  We had always done Christmas Eve at mom’s house.  Perhaps a few times at Patrick and Sunny’s.  But I did not spend Christmas with my sibs last year.  Each had made obligations with other people.  Roland, Jenna, Biff and I spent Christmas Eve with mom.

This year Randy took it upon himself to host the family gathering on Christmas Eve.  All three Romero boys with their wives, our granddaughter Ester, Roland, Jenna and I gathered at the home of Randy and Carrie.  We spent some time together before exchanging gifts – something we had always done with mom.

Before we left for Randy and Carrie's house I turned on the light in the backroom and plugged in the Christmas tree.  I prayed that we would not become a target of thievery.  Upon our return home we discovered the opposite.  Instead of taking (or stealing) gifts, someone had left two bags full of presents.  FULL.  I think it is the third or forth time we’ve returned home to find presents left on our door step (though the first time in this house) Santa also left this note:

I would have thought Jenna herself had done it just to prove a point.  But of course she couldn’t have.

“See daddy.  Santa is real,” she said to Roland.  
 Just moments later she asked me, “Why doesn’t daddy believe in Santa Clause?”

“I don’t know.  I have explained it to him just as I have with you.”

When Jenna was six I told her that Santa does not always wear red.  He doesn’t necessarily have a white beard or a very large belly.  Sometimes Santa is not even male nor does he always appear in the winter time.  Sometimes “Santa” may leave a sack of groceries on your doorstep in the summer or leave a coat or warm blanket for you in the fall.  Santa goes by many different names.  And he likes to remain anonymous.

 

Many have commercialized Christmas. Santa becomes a symbol of selling product – the commercialized Santa.  Not the Spirit of Santa – or the Spirit of Christ.  When one gives secretly. Santa is a symbol of Christ.  I sincerely believe that.

Roland and I purchased the game “Operation” and Jenna had picked out a pair of shoes that were on close out.  She said we could wrap them and put them under the tree. Those were the only two things that we had purchased for Jenna.  Now (I kid you not) there are about 30 presents under the tree just for her – at least I think they are for her.  Santa put tags on all of the wrapped items but neglected to put names on any of the tags – and so we will just have Jenna open all gifts with no names and let her divvy them out as she sees fit.

Roland’s mom has sent gifts in the past, but I recall our second year in WV there was nothing in the mail from her.  I wasn’t upset about it, but I was surprised.  As Christmas got closer, I hadn’t given it much thought.  

Biff and Tony were both living at home (Randy was on his mission) and things were tight that year.  I think we purchased three small gifts for each person.  I had placed them beneath the tree before 10:00 (first visit from Santa) 

When I awoke the next morning, there was 3-4 times the amount of presents than there had been when I went to bed.  Tony had a generous heart that year and decided that he would play Santa (2^nd visit) and Biff (who had spent two weeks in August with Roland’s family) had placed gifts beneath the tree from Roland’s family and Santa (3^rd visit) That year was definitely full of surprises.

We have been blessed immensely.  I hope to play Santa to others the way others have played Santa to our family.  Although when we have been the recipients our gifts seem to outweigh anything that Roland and I have done on our own.  Jenna’s going to be overwhelmed.  I know I am.  It's kind of like mom and dad stopped by to surprise us - but of course I think tangible gifts had to have come from a tangible being.  Perhaps someone related to mom and dad?